Walking heartbreak.
Human wildfire.
And the second I open Instagram, TikTok, YouTube?—
His face fills the screen.
The cliffs behind him.
The wind in his hair.
His voice low, raw, steady.
Every word aimed like an arrow straight at my chest.
My breath stutters.
My heart is pounding so fast I can hear it in my ears. Heat floods my cheeks. My palms get sweaty. My stomach swoops like I’m falling off a cliff myself.
He looks gorgeous.
Ridiculously gorgeous.
Unfairly gorgeous.
And worse?—
vulnerable.
He’s talking about us like we were the sun and the moon.
Talking about me like I’m the girl he’d cross a warzone for.
Talking like he’s ready to burn down the entire gilded kingdom he grew up in just to stand beside me.
The screen blurs for a second before I realize my eyes are burning.
I whisper it without thinking.
Barely a breath.
Barely a sound.
“He’s so fucking hot.”
And then my entire body goes still.
Because I said that out loud.
Slowly — very slowly — I look up.
Mason is biting his fist to keep from laughing.
Irene is smirking like she’s watching her favorite soap opera.
Aunt Susan’s eyebrows are in her hairline.
I want to crawl into the ocean and let the Atlantic finish me off.
